It Doesn't Happen Often
Dream Account
I had just booked a ten-day vacation to the Portuguese Azores with National Geographic. Three minutes later I had to call and cancel, because it overlapped with another international trip The Bear and I were about to take.
The Day in all its Parts
The last time we’d see triplets across the calendar for another 89 years. I certainly wasn’t planning on hanging around for that anniversary. All this nonsense about people living into their 120’s now…
Quality of life, man.
Quality of life.
But this particular day started off with bad news. The Cardinals had released Skip to the Dodgers. I was kind of mad about that. So, no, my mood wasn’t the greatest. But what is baseball if not a temporary source of entertainment and good will? I had other things to think about anyway. The Bear had his big Greek final, for example. 8:30-11:00.
Puck wasn’t wasting time. After requesting his standard toast with butter cut in triangles, with strawberries, cereal, and who knows what else, he popped a bagel in his mouth, then immediately tossed it in the garbage.
“What?” Francis asked.
“I ate it raw without cooking it, Uncle Fran. It tasted funny. It was raw.”
“Replace our bagel,” Francis ordered.
Puck was a little upset that he had to start school a few minutes later. Joe and Francis explained to him the importance of learning school…
“It’s kind of like Minecraft,” Joe explained. “Reading will help you to build a house some day…”
“But I already know how to build a house in Minecraft! I built a diamond one!”
I guess when you have your own virtual diamond house, there just isn’t that much incentive anymore…
Carrie-Bri and Mom went out for groceries while I tried to monitor the kids’ math without anyone nodding off. Two minutes later, I walked back into the dining room where Francis and Puck were blowing air at each other as hard as possible. Somewhere between the egg sandwiches Francis requested, and another ear cleaning. He grinned at the handful of used Q-Tips and opened the door of the wood stove…
“I’m going to see if these make good candles.”
I tried to stay awake. It was just one of those afternoons. Helping Mom work out the family Christmas letter helped a little bit, between the boys giving out their own ridiculous suggestions, before Joe joined Carrie on a drive to the flight shop or someplace involving paperwork for their rescheduled first flight, Thursday.
When they got back with a free flight log book, Joe tried to convince Puck that if “Grandma gets too angry, she will explode into candy!”
They dumped me in the nursery at 5:15. I guess that’s a little unkind… It’s not so much the kids themselves most of the time, I’ve come to realize. It’s a lot of just… the idea. Two hours, sitting, watching, and trying to be excited about floor puzzles and buffets of crushed plastic hot dogs. I guess I don’t try that hard, really. I’m probably not the only one, though. Someone did chalk on the blackboard as a welcome to the double-wide nursery…
“Children are a gift from the Lord.”
I think they underlined “gift” three times. Maybe the reminder is necessary.
Meanwhile, someone had fired up pizzas for the kids, who would also be entertained with holiday films, decorating Rice Krispies treats, little red, white, and green jingle bells strung into Christmas ornaments, tubes of Skittles…
“Eat it all before you get home,” one of the assisting dads advised Puck. Then turning to The Bear, he added, “You’re welcome.”
The next time I saw my son, he was jumping up and down – red cheeks, lips, and teeth, plastered in frosting.
“What did you have to eat, Puck?”
Eyes wide…
“SUGAR!!!”